


Fledgling

by circlenowsquared (csquared225), csquared225



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Coulson Lives, M/M, Mpreg, Past Clint Barton/Loki, Past Sexual Assault, Pheels, Protective Phil Coulson, loki creepiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/circlenowsquared, https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/csquared225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint discovers after the invasion is over that he’s pregnant, knocked up during his time as Loki’s soldier. He's not too happy about it.</p><p>UPDATE: This will be updated soon, I've finally had time to let my muse think and worked on this damn thing. I can definitely promise the next update after this one will be much sooner than 2 and a half years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a kink of mine that it’s really rather bad. I personally only “ship” Hawki when it’s dubcon/noncon, because I don’t see them having a relationship outside of that after what Loki did to him, unless the god apologized and made it up to him, but I don’t see that happening. However, that’s just me.
> 
> Also, the first chapter is short, but the others will be quite longer in length. I'm not halfway done with this story and it's more than 16,000 words so far.
> 
> Another note: if anyone can recommend a good beta or a place to find a beta, I would be most grateful. And thank you to midsmstar for telling me about the invitation e-mail process that actually allowed me to get this fic posted here.
> 
> Lastly, the rating will go up to Explicit, though not for a few chapters. This fic is based around a past sexual assault that happened to Clint, so heed the trigger warning here: warnings for flashbacks of the sexual assault, mention of past mind control, brief mention of abortion, trauma associated with past sexual assault. More warnings may be added on later, as will characters and tags. If you believe there are any more warnings I should post, please let me know.

“You’re pregnant.”  
  
  
Two words Clint had never thought he’d ever hear directed at him. Not in this lifetime. Then again, with how messed up his life was, he shouldn’t have surprised. But it still hit him hard.

  
He snorted and tried to ignore how serious the doctor’s eyes looked, the tics and honesty in the expression that he could see, how deep down he knew that the man wasn’t lying.  
  
  
“Doc, please. I’ve been through enough, this is shitty bedside manner if I ever saw it—”  
  
  
“Agent Barton, please listen to me. I don’t know how it’s medically possible myself, but you are indeed pregnant. There is the presence of a small, but noticeable fetus in your newly formed womb. I—”  
  
  
The man clearly didn’t know whether to say “I’m sorry” or “Congratulations”; everyone knew what Clint had done on the helicarrier under Loki’s influence not yet twenty-four hours ago. Some were forgiving, most were rightfully angry and upset and hadn’t come to terms with it. The doctor seemed to be one of those forgiving, but it didn’t make a difference in this case.  
  
  
“I’m not gonna listen to anymore of this bullshit, I’m out of here,” the archer interrupted him, abruptly standing and storming out of the door. He ignored the calls of the doctor behind him, skirting down the corridors and trying not to feel a pang of hurt in his gut (where there absolutely was not a baby, that wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be) at how quickly people moved out of the way for him, like his eyes would turn blue any second and he’d turn on them again, start shooting anyone in sight.  
  
  
He swung himself up into the vents and was gone, crawling along to find some peace of mind he knew wasn’t possible anymore.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint comes out of hiding, and reluctantly reveals his condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much, much longer than the first. It perhaps should have been quartered off into at least two chapters, but the whole thing has more of a run-on sentence quality that I think it should retain. In any case, more trigger warnings for past noncon and also threats of death and violence and alluding to possible abortion that does not come to fruition. Hint of homophobic policies from the forties.  
> Also keep in mind I still have no beta and there may be mistakes so please let me know if there are! Please and thank you. (To all of the people who have read this already, my goodness. O_O)

He came out hours later, reluctantly revealing himself to the light after a long time of welcoming darkness. He shook himself out and looked around. The coast was clear.

“Clint!”

Or not. He suppressed a wince (barely) and turned around to face his equal parts angry and worried (but only those who knew her would be able to see it) partner. Natasha stormed forward, louder in her steps than she usually was--that’s how he knew she was really angry--and smacked him hard on the head.

“Ow, Tasha!”

It was automatic reflex to whine, as if they were playing and he had said something stupid and she had given him a fond headslap. This was one of her more brutal ones, that communicated “what the fuck were you thinking you worried me you idiot”, the words she’d never say out loud, not even for him. She glared fiercely.

“What happened? Even I couldn’t scare the doctor into telling me what he diagnosed you with, I got enough out of him to know that it didn’t turn out to be a regular post-mission checkup.” That got a bitter snort out of the archer. It wasn’t regular, it was after a goddamn alien invasion where he’d almost taken down the headquarters of where he worked and killed hundreds of innocent people. She softened, though minutely. “Clint, what happened?”

He shook his head and looked away.

“It can’t be possible, Tash. Even after all this shit with aliens from other dimensions and gods, and…”

“Clint.” It was the tone she used only when she was really trying to get something out of him, that expressed that this was to help him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“He said I was pregnant.”

He opened his eyes. Her face was blank for a moment as she digested this, then she spun on her heel and started striding back the way she’d came with purpose--towards the medical wing. His eyes widened and he started after her.

“Tasha, you can’t kill the doctor, it must’ve--I don’t know, been a cruel prank after all the shit I pulled--”

She whirled around for a second, red hair fanning about her face.

“This was not your fault Clint, it was Loki’s--” She looked the smallest bit apologetic when Clint winced at the mention of his name, “--and I know Doctor Yates, he wouldn’t do this. So what he said must have been true.” She turned around again and continued on her way. And that’s when Clint realized that the holding cells were in the same direction as Medical.

“Natasha! Fuck, you can’t kill Loki!” He ran after her--she was outright running now. “Fucking--they’ll stop you, they’ll--”

“They can’t stop me and you know it.” She replied easily, skidding around a corner. People jumped out of her way just as fast. Clint had the briefest moment of clarity; this was what it was like for Natasha all the time, people terrified of her, but not in the same way as Clint. It was damn close, though. His chest swelled with empathy.

“If you attack them they’re gonna label you a rogue agent!”

“I don’t care!”

‘Way to fuckin’ repay me for bringing you in all those years ago,’ he thought sourly, but realized she was doing this for him and didn’t even consider it that way.

“TASHA!”

She stopped again, whirling around and pinning him to the wall of a service hallway nearby; she clearly didn’t want this overheard.

“I know you, Clint, you haven’t been with anyone for months, and it was obviously magic since you’re pregnant. Loki did this to you,” she had a gleam of bitter satisfaction in her eyes when Clint flinched, “and I’m going to gut him for it.”

“Tasha, please,” he pleaded softly. “I want him dead too, I do. But we can’t. He’s not worth it, and if we do it, and if this /thing/,” his hand had already automatically framed his stomach protectively, “this thing is real, then I don’t want the kid’s aunt-to-be to be locked up in a holding cell somewhere.” If you didn’t know her it wouldn’t be obvious, but Natasha’s righteous defensiveness was slowly crumbling. He pulled out the puppy eyes and slightly broken tone that he didn’t even have to fake this time, “Please, Tasha?”

She huffed and pulled back, but slid the knives she’d drawn out (they were fondly called her Gutting Knives, for obvious and unspeakable reasons) back into the hidden pockets of her jumpsuit.

“Very, well, моя маленькая птица, but if this condition…” She made a sweeping gesture at his stomach, “Causes you harm, you will have a difficult time holding me back.” He nodded.

“Then let’s hope things go smoothly for once.”

That was just jinxing himself, he knew. This was proven no less than five minutes later when Hill appeared out of nowhere, and ordered him back to Fury’s office, where he’d been not an hour ago. Clearly the doc had told him the good news. Clint shrank in on himself a little bit, and Natasha hovered protectively around him on the way back up, glaring darkly at anyone who came near, even Maria, who she was normally on good terms with; she respected her.

“So, Loki knocked you up,” said Fury, and god, was Clint glad that he wasn’t tiptoeing around it or trying to spare his feelings. It was refreshing, and he was so grateful. It was blunt, but effective. “It’s up to you where we go from here, Barton. You keepin’ the...fetus? Either way you’re benched for at least the next two months.”

Clint swallowed hard. He was all for a woman’s choice and all of that with regards to pregnancy, but for him?

“I’m keeping the baby,” he said steadily, and was surprised at how certain he was as he said it. He was no role model, and he was sure right now he’d be a shitty-ass parent. Not on his own parents’ level of shitty, but not too far off, either.

But he had help now. Tasha and for some reason the rest of the Avengers were sticking around after all of the weirdness that had gone down, he had a feeling they’d taken this alright, too. Giant green rage monster, super soldier from the forties, billionaire with a mechanical suit, a god and Tasha? He’d be fine.

Fury’s own expression was neutral enough that Clint couldn’t tell if this surprised him or not. Another reason to be grateful.

“Benched for at least nine months, then. And all of those other warnings that I’m gonna let Medical take care of--and you are going to Medical, Agent,” Fury narrowed his eye at him when Clint automatically opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He had to go to Medical now, of his own free will, he realized. Fuck. It wasn’t just his health he had to look out for, now. This was probably going to suck.

“I’m not your nanny, despite what many of you agents may think, so grow up and take care of yourself and the…” Fury gestured at his stomach, “...in there.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed, Agent.”

He left the office with a bit of a skip in his step, to his surprise. Time to let the Avengers know. They’d find out soon enough anyway with Cap’s big puppy-eyes and Tony’s nosiness.  
\------

Bruce was first. And not for the reasons he knew the scientist would be thinking of; let the scary monster know so that he could keep away from Clint at all costs. No, he figured that if anyone was gonna understand not having control of their own body, it would be him. And he was a doctor.

“I’m not that kind of doctor, I lack the...temperament. But Clint, that’s, um.” The timid man scratched his head of curly hair, obviously stuck on the same thing the first doctor had been, whether to congratulate him or not. Clint waved it off.

“Natasha told me you were doing some kind of doctoring over in India. Just in case, right?”

Bruce’s eyes got a pinched line between them at his brow.

“Clint, you don’t want me near you, especially now. If the Other Guy comes out, he’s--just because he cooperated in battle doesn’t mean he’s going to go easy on anyone now. I know he likes Tony, and that’s about it.”

So it was ‘Tony,’ was it? He half-smirked, then snickered when Bruce flushed at his little slip-up.

“I won’t tell if you don’t, doc. Look. I’ll keep my distance. But we’re living together--and you are not moving out on us, we’ll drag you back--so we’re going to cross paths sometimes. Maybe Jade Jaws will warm up to me, huh?”

Banner seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to back down from this, and nodded resignedly.

“Okay. But if they set off the Hulk alarm, you get as far away as possible for now. Promise me that.”

“I promise, doc.”

“Good.”

\-------

He approached Steve next. He’d been--he’d been Phil’s idol. It’s who he would have wanted Clint to tell next. He was coming in from what looked like an art store, a few bags of sketchbooks, pencils and other things in his arms when Clint walked into the living room. (It was both creepy and helpful that JARVIS knew where they were all the time; he could find them easily, but that meant they could find him, too.)

“Hey, Cap. You finally take advantage of Tony’s credit card?”

Steve turned an adorable shade of pink. It was kind of easy to see what Phil saw in him.

“He gave me one of my own...apparently the military gave me a lot of back pay. I donated most of it, but I figure a few things couldn’t hurt.” He shifted back and forth, setting the bags down. “You look like you want to talk.”

He’d never been as good at espionage as Natasha; he was probably broadcasting his intentions loud and clear. He took a seat on the ridiculously comfy armchair he’d claimed for himself.

“You might wanna sit down for this,” he advised him. Steve eyed him warily, but took a seat next to his art supplies. Clint inhaled deeply. He explained what had happened, what Loki had did to him in the least explicit way possible, that he was keeping the kid. That he wouldn’t be in battle anymore, but he’d be doing tactics from back at the Tower. Steve had unanimously been voted team leader (everyone had been surprised at Tony’s decision, but wisely didn’t ask him about it), he needed to know all of that.

When he was done, Steve looked sad. Like when he’d been reading up on world history, piles of books around him despite Tony’s insistence that the internet was much faster. The Holocaust and Rwanda and Vietnam and the Berlin Wall and 9/11. He looked like a sad little blonde puppy. It was annoyingly endearing. His heart ached for Phil.

“Thank you for telling me, Clint. That couldn’t have been easy for you.”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on a point past Steve’s ear.

“You’re the team leader and everything. And everyone’s gonna know eventually.”

Steve nodded, tilting his head.

“We’ll miss you in battle. And I’m guessing male pregnancy was just a result of magic? It’s not something that happens normally in the twenty-first century, is it?” He actually looked a little worried about it.

Clint laughed, one of the first genuine ones he’d had in a long time.

“No, you’re safe, Steve. Wait. You don’t...I mean, obviously there were gay guys back in the forties, but…”

Steve now resembled a tomato. It went terrifically well with his blue shirt and the rest of his pale skin. Always patriotic, that was him.

“It was illegal back then…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There was someone, Bucky…” Bucky Barnes. Phil had excitedly told him all about his adventures with Steve when they had down time on a mission, or while waiting for a mark to show up and they had time. Clint nodded, smiling a little.

“Okay. Thanks for understanding.”

He didn’t mention anything else about the fallen soldier. It was clearly a sore spot for him. He quickly changed the subject.

“So, art. I know the history books didn’t mention it much, but you really do like to draw and stuff, huh?”

Cap perked up a little.

“I do. I was going to go to art school before the war. It’s more of a hobby, but…” He shuffled a little. “Actually, I’ve been drawing the team. And, um.” He reached over to his own bag, what looked like a military satchel; the real kind, not the fake ones they apparently sold at Urban Outfitters. Not that Clint knew anything about Urban Outfitters. Or anything. He snapped to attention again when Steve held out a piece of paper to him. He took it, confused, then froze.

It was a beautifully detailed sketch of Phil, talking to someone off to the side, in Secret Agent Mode, as Clint had always fondly called it. The cut of his suit, his wispy hair, crow’s feet and his favorite tie, they were all there. He realized his vision was blurred, and he wiped at his eyes.

“Wh-Why’re you giving me--”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“You two were clearly close. He was a good man.” He looked a little choked up himself. “He asked me to sign his trading cards…” Clint snorted softly. Of course he had. “And told me he watched me while I was sleeping.” He let out a surprised laugh. Phil was such a dork when he talked about Cap, the fanboy. Was. Not anymore.

“Thanks,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over the sketch carefully. There were some spare frames in his new apartment. He’d put it there.

They sat in silence for a while, then parted ways with respectful nods. Thor was next.

\------  
“Hey, Legolas!” Or not. He must have really been messed up after talking to Steve if he didn’t notice Stark making an appearance. Luckily he’d put the sketch back in his rooms, or he’d have crumpled it in his hand. He plastered on a pleasant but irritated mask (he figured the billionaire was used to irritation by now).

“What is it, Stark?” He’d planned on talking to him last; Stark was stressful, he couldn’t be good for the kid right away, could he?

Tony pouted, sliding expensive looking sunglasses down his nose to give Clint the full brown-eyes puppy dog effect. Clint was pretty damn immune to it by now; if you could handle it coming from Captain America and Thor, you were pretty damn set for life.

“Aww, I thought we were friendlier than that, cupcake. Tough love, tough love...listen, I know that things kind of suck right now, but if you ever need to take a load off, the open bar is down a few floors. It’s been a while since I had a drinking buddy.”

Clint forced a semblance of a non-irritated expression on his face that was the equivalent of a smile these days.

“I appreciate the offer, Stark. But I can’t right now.” He figured the guy had already had his robot or whatever scan him, he’d heard Phil--his throat choked up for a moment--complain about Tony offering him suits and mysteriously having his measurements, before. “See, you’re not supposed to drink while you’re pregnant.”

The shocked look on Stark’s face was completely worth the blunt delivery.

“Fucking--JARVIS, he’s fucking with me, right? He’s--”

“It appears, sir, that Agent Barton is with child. He would do well to remain away from the bar or caffeine for the next nine months, indeed. I will be on hand to send you any resources you need if you may require them, Hawkeye.”

And if Clint was hearing it right, there was some warmth in the AI’s voice. He nodded jerkily. His bravado was wearing off, and Clint knew that Tony could see it when he turned his bugged out stare back at him that was melting into something that he dared call sympathy. Not pity; he knew the billionaire had gotten that enough to not wish it on someone else.

“Shit, Katniss, I didn’t know. How is that even--” He looked up at the ceiling again, but cut whatever he was going to ask JARVIS short. His expression hardened, and while he’d faced down some scary shit before, Clint found himself shivering a little bit under the billionaire’s icy expression. His tone was a complete 360 from the beginning of their conversation. “Was it Loki?”

He nodded. Tony’s nostrils flared.

“That bastard. I can mix things up in the SHIELD database, have them accidentally drop him off in a black hole somewhere--or I could do it myself, Fury needs me, he wouldn’t dare--”

All of these people he barely knew were offering to help him, take revenge in his name. He was...touched. It was something he wasn’t used to, but it was something he found dangerously close to wanting to get used to.

“Stark, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but...let’s just let Asgard have him. Ph--Coulson trusted Thor. I’m sure whatever they have cooked up for him isn’t pleasant.”

Tony didn’t look so sure, but nodded after a time.

“Okay. But just tell me or JARVIS if you change your mind, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Tony.”

\-----------

Now it was Thor’s turn next. He had a right to know he was gonna have a niece or nephew, he figured, and he’d cared about Phil, at least a little bit. Clint owed him that much. He met the god in the gym, where he seemed to be having fun trying out all of the different exercise equipment (which Tony had taken pains to reinforce for the Hulk, so they looked like they were holding up under Thor’s abuse). He looked up and the sunny expression on his face dimmed.

“What is it, brave Hawk?”

Brave. After what he’d done to the helicarrier, in Germany… Clint let out a barked laugh, half helpless hilarity, the other half bitterness. He couldn’t put up a polite front anymore, even for a god.

“Con-fucking-gratulations, Thor. You’re gonna be an uncle.”

When it hit Thor what he meant, the expression on the god’s face was even more distraught than he had counted on. The brow furrowed, features twisted up in a sorrow that Clint had to admit he had never seen anyone give about him; but he supposed some of it was for his brother and his actions.

“Hawkeye—Clint, I’m sorry—”

“Thor, you don’t have to apologize, alright? This isn’t your fault. It’s—” He couldn’t say his name just yet. He hoped that the god could understand that. The pain in Thor’s features was clear, pinched brow and eyes and bitten lips, but he nodded in understanding. Clint deflated and gestured at his stomach. “Guess we’re sort of family now.”

This seemed to cheer up the god.

“Indeed! We are more than shieldbrothers now, we are, how the Man of Iron says, ‘brothers from another mother’.”

That made Clint’s own face twist up in a semblance of a grin, and he chuckled.

“Uh, yeah, more or less. ...Never say that again, okay buddy?”

“If it pleases you.”

Clint shook his head, letting the first real wave of amusement he’d felt since before the Battle wash over him. “So, ah, you’re the actual heir to the throne, right? Little kiddo in here isn’t gonna mess up any Asgardian royal hierarchy, right?”

Thor perked up.

“Indeed I am. And no. But Mother will be most pleased--well--” He deflated again as the circumstances of how it had happened hit him again. He looked so much like a sad puppy (he and Steve were gonna kill him, dammit) that Clint had to pat him on a well-muscled soldier.

“No, I get it. Grandkids, all Moms get excited about that.” Or so he’d been told. He left out the part where Loki wasn’t actually related to them, figuring it would cheer the god up. It seemed to do the trick. “However this happened, I’m not regretting this kid.” He took a breath and confessed, “I was unplanned and my parents made it really clear to me, when they were alive, that I was an accident. A mistake. I’m not doing that to my kid. It’s not their fault, right?”

Thor studied him carefully for a moment, then nodded.

“Most wise, Eye of Hawk. You will be a good and loving parent, I can see it already.”

This brought a flush to Clint’s cheeks, and he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I can’t do any worse than they did, right? Every kid deserves a decent parent, I’ll work on--oh.”

Thor had stepped forward and brought him into a hug--not the bone-crushing ones he’d seen him bestow on the others, but a gentler one he knew was more for the benefit of not squishing the life inside him than anything else. Thor liked to be very...thorough with his hugs.

“Thank you, Clint Barton. For bearing my niece or nephew. You do great honor to Asgard by doing so.”

“Um...sure. You’re welcome. ….Thor? How long are we gonna stay like this?”

“Another minute, if you please, Clint.”

“Sure, buddy. Sure.”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Coulsonlives. And it was kind of fucking up Clint's life even more. In other news, apparently he was clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the more rushed chapters, but in the interests of being busy and trying to update more frequently and that I'm worried if I start to edit this it won't turn out how I like it, this is how it is.
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of human trafficking, and child molestation VERY briefly. Spoilers for why in the end notes.
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT: I do not have the fourth chapter written, like the previous. So it may take a little longer for the next update.

Things were settling in nicely now that he’d let the cat out of the bag. On second thought, no more cat metaphors. He’d heard Bruce comment about Loki’s head being a bag of crazy cats, or something. Never again.

  
He was taking his prenatal vitamins each morning with his new workout, courtesy of Bruce (both the workout and the meds); the doctor had looked up yoga for pregnant women, and despite the blow to Clint’s pride, he had to admit it left him sweating.

  
Thor was hustling Jane up to get the Bifrost running, so he could both return Loki home and inform his parents of the child. Though Clint got the impression that Frigga was going to be infinitely more pleased about the former than Odin would. He shuddered at the thought.

  
Tony had started construction on a baby wing on Clint’s floor, flapping his hands and babbling over him when the archer tried to protest. Clint eventually gave up. Tony would get his way in the end, he knew. Pepper had stopped by a few times, informed of the news, and given him an empathetic look when he rolled his eyes at Tony’s rambling. She knew how it went.

  
Natasha had started reading up on child abductions and, according to JARVIS, researching the child sex offender database of records in their area. He had a feeling many of them were going to be ticked off in the night. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel any remorse for that.

  
Steve had finally given into Tony’s insistence that he learn about the internet, using it to research pregnancy and was constantly walking into the room and spouting off facts or safety warnings, “Tony, the edges on the furniture are too sharp. The baby could hurt themselves when they start crawling around!” It was both cute and annoying. Only Captain America would be--and he cut himself off right there. Thoughts like that led to him thinking about Coulson, and that was definitely not going to adhere to his new, strict health regimen.

  
All in all, things had been going smoothly, and later Clint would chide himself for being soft and complacent in his new, cushy life. Things never went well for long, and he should have prepared himself better. Even though he’d started planning things out, how to take care of himself for the next nine months, where they’d cut him open for the C-section, how to get back on track with his workout regimen after gaining weight for the baby.

  
Finding out Phil was alive hadn’t been in his plans. He hadn’t exactly accepted his death, but he was coping, and seeing his former handler standing there, pale but otherwise looking okay in the entrance to the Tower’s main floor had him reeling back and looking for a vent to crawl into. All of the progress he’d been making came undone in one split second, and he was left without something solid to hang onto.

  
Natasha hadn’t tried to stop him, in fact held Phil off as he limped forwards (god, limping, he wasn’t recovered yet from what Clint’s assault on the helicarrier had caused, he thought as he managed to get himself up through a ceiling tile) in an attempt to speak to him. He saw muted gesturing on Phil’s part right before he swung himself up and out of view.

  
He crawled into the deepest bowels of the Tower to one of his more secure and private nests, that he rarely even let Natasha join him in. It was his safe place, and he curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows and shirts and squeezed his eyes shut. Pretending that everything was back how it used to be, sleeping in one of his nests at SHIELD after a long mission and knowing that Phil would be knocking on a spot where he could hear him, and he’d come down and they’d eat Chinese takeout in his office and just sit silently together. Or a memorable time when he’d actually been invited back to Phil’s house and they’d watched Dog Cops together and Clint had slept on his couch and went back to HQ in the morning.

  
Those had been the good times. And they were never going to have them again. Clint had helped to kill Phil, even if he forgave him for that (unlikely), Clint himself didn’t know if he could ever have that kind of ease around him again after what he’d done. He knew he wouldn’t if things were reversed, no matter how much he’d try to hide or squelch it.  
  
\-----  
  
When he came out, it was clear that Phil had found out about the baby. The look on Phil’s face… Clint had seen him face down human traffickers, child molesters, terrorists and serial killers, and his face that time Clint had almost died in Budapest. This was more towards the second mentioned than the others, and it was terrifying to see.

  
“I’m going to kill him,” Coulson decided, turning on his heel, with even more (if possible) fury than Natasha had had. He had had to be held down by Steve and Thor, and even then he put up a fight. Tony was gaping, Bruce was trying to press himself into the corner; Natasha was looking like she wanted to join Phil and free him from Thor and Steve. Clint was just staring.

  
  
“Coulson, what the hell?” He walked over to where Thor and Steve were trying to get a better hold on him. Phil was deceptively slippery. “They’re shipping him back to Asgard to get punished--”

  
“So he’ll live? Not good enough. I’m sorry, Thor, but this is the last straw.”

  
The blonde god looked sad, but like he understood where the Son of Coul was coming from.

  
“Loki will be held responsible for his actions, Phillip, I promise you this on Mjolnir.”

  
“Promise me on Jane, and then maybe I’ll believe you,” and those who knew who the scientist was to Thor sucked in a surprised breath or gasped. It wasn’t like Phil to poke at sensitive spots like that. The god looked stunned, and was at a loss for words for the first time Clint had seen him.

  
“Phil, what the fuck--”

  
“Agent, that’s a bit harsh--”

  
“Coulson--”

  
In their shock, Thor and Steve had loosened their hold on Phil, and the agent slipped through their grasp. JARVIS finally spoke up.

  
“I have informed the guards of the prison not to let you enter, Agent Coulson. I am sorry.”

  
Phil just shook his head and stormed off, ignoring the obvious pain he was still in.

  
“Phil? Come back! PHIL!”

  
The older man didn’t look back and swept out of the room. Clint looked back at the rest of them.

  
“What the fuck just happened?” he demanded. They exchanged looks and then looked back at him like he was an idiot. “What? Guys, what?”  
  


They filed out of the room. “Guys, seriously, what am I missing? Come on, Tony! Tasha? Nobody? ...Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Phil's glare upon finding out what Loki did to Clint is compared to the glares he gives to human traffickers and child molesters, with the utmost disdain, disgust and loathing.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first and then second call-out for the Avengers since Clint's big news, and he finds himself placed on the sidelines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: At the end when the italics start, warning for disturbing images including burns and apocalyptic imagery.
> 
> Also: sorry this took so long! My writer's block weighed a few tons this time. The next chapter will be posted as early as tomorrow, but the next one after that may take a bit, though not as long as last time, I promise!

Phil didn’t return for the next week. Apparently he’d been so incensed that he’d retreated to his quarters on base, using the locker rooms to shower and eating in the cafeteria. Sitwell and Woo had been tasked in making sure he didn’t self-destruct and/or pull any stitches, both fully aware that they weren’t going to be able to get him to do anything that he really didn’t want to do.

  
Maria had pulled him from active duty and placed him on administrative leave, though that only applied for SHIELD missions; the Avengers were a separate entity after finding out about Phil, after some vigorous negotiation between Stark Industries and SHIELD.

  
When the Avengers were called out for the first time since receiving the news, Clint had been stuck back at the Tower trying to help call out shots with JARVIS’s help, but it was clear they hadn’t prepared enough in advance. They called together a meeting the very next day.

  
“You were always great at tactics, Clint. You can still be our eyes in the sky,” Steve reassured him. Clint hesitated, but in the end he nodded, just like he knew he would. He needed some sort of action in his life, something that made his adrenaline pump and was making a difference, too. Natasha wasn’t the only one who had lots of red on her ledger.

  
“You better appreciate all of the things I’m doing for you, kid,” he grumbled at his stomach, which was already losing some tone from all of his sitting around. Apparently exercise was all fine and dandy at this point of his pregnancy, but to keep his rock hard abs, he’d had a very strict training regimen. Without it, he was literally going soft. It was a point of pride for him, another hit in his already shaky self-esteem.

  
‘And it’s not like I’m attracting any mates or anything,’ he thought sulkily. He was confined to the Tower for the most part now; the cover story was that he’d contracted some sort of chronic illness. They couldn’t risk him being seen with a giant belly, it would bring up a lot of questions and if it got out that the mad god who’d led the Chitauri in trying to take over the world and destroyed New York City in the process was the father, things could get even more tense between Earth and Asgard, not to mention the conservative religious groups probably slinging more mud than usual at them…

  
Needless to say, Clint hadn’t got laid in a while. He and his right hand had made a few attempts, but thinking about Phil didn’t work as well as it usually did, or memories of him and Natasha in the early days. It got all mixed up in feelings and emotions and flashbacks. And it was just awkward to ask JARVIS to help him look for masturbation fodder (even if he was nearly positive the poor AI had done such a thing in the past for Stark).

  
He could almost feel the tension in the air ramp up and didn’t have to look up to know that Phil had entered the room. His h--former handler had been there for the last battle, but he hadn’t talked to Clint once, only acknowledged him briefly before running off to join the others in the field. There had been a brief apology for his outburst, but nothing more.

  
“Alright, let’s get started. Hawkeye, if you haven’t been told yet,” Hawkeye, not even Agent Barton, geez, “You are officially being removed from the field, for obvious reasons. While I’ll be coordinating down in the field, you’ll be doing so from here at Avengers Tower. It’ll be useful to have another pair of eyes, especially if something happens to me on the ground and we’re left blind.”

  
Clint didn’t like that idea, but it made sense to have a second wall of defense in case something did happen. He nodded. His slight distaste must have showed on his face, because Coulson’s expression softened slightly into something he almost recognized as being from his old handler.

  
“We’ll be working together, just not what you’re used to. I promise I’ll make it as easy of a transition for you as possible,” Phil said evenly, as if this was just another mission and he was being told to shoot with a rifle instead of his bow at the last minute. Clint didn’t know if that made it better or worse. He was thinking just a little bit better at this point, though the way it made something in his chest feel like it was being pierced with one of his own arrows belied that feeling.

  
“Okay, boss,” he said with more ease than he was really feeling. He’d make his own judgement when it finally happened.

  
\-----

The first mission out, of course, had to be on the weird side of things.

  
“Seriously? Dragon horses? Who comes up with this shit?”

  
They were almost dragon centaurs, if only for the fact that besides their wings, they were horse from lower torso upwards. Since they breathed fire, Clint didn’t make the distinction. The archer grumbled, flipping the switch to another camera angle. “Iron Man, two smaller ones coming up on on your six, Widow, three on your nine o’clock. Thor, their armor is resilient, but their wings are thinner, try aiming for those, might act like a, whaddya call it, conductor. Stay away from those hooves. Cap, I bet your shield can cut right through them at the base of the wings, they seem pretty weak at the closest point. Hulk?” He paused. “Uh. Good smashing, buddy.” There was an affirming roar.

  
He sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers together. Sure, he was a sniper, and he was used to sitting on rooftops in the freezing rain for hours on end for a target. But this was different, he could move around but at the same time he couldn’t really do anything. It was frustrating, not being able to be there for his team in person. Like he was letting them down--

  
“Cap! On your five, coming at you fast! It’s a big one--shit!”

  
A particularly large and what would be classified as a Percheron dragon horse had noticed how many of its brethren the Captain was taking out, and let out a thunderous whinny before launching itself at him. Steve only had a moment to throw his shield up to take the brunt of the hit before he was slammed into the nearest building. The structure shuddered worryingly, and dust and bits of rubble began to flake off of it.

  
“I’ve got ‘im--or not,” Iron Man started, then quickly veered out of the way as Hulk roared and took over, holding up the wavering structure and giving Cap a chance to get his ass out of there. The building crumbled around his giant green hands and he had to back up when it disintegrated completely. Clint could only numbly acknowledge that thank God he and Coulson had had the area cleared out.

 

‘At least I did something right,’ he thought angrily, and his replies were far more clipped as the team regrouped and they took out the rest of the herd. (Herd? Clint supposed there wasn’t really a word for a group of dragons...a hoard? Pretty much the same thing anyway…)

 

He was still beating himself up when everyone was patched up and back together at the Tower in the meeting room; the sweat was still cooling on their bodies. Natasha gave him a searching look as he joined them; he looked away and sat to attention.  
  
“We did well today, guys,” Steve said with a smile, face still flushed from the battle and it was clear that there was still some adrenaline running through his super-charged veins. He didn’t seem bothered at all that a building had nearly collapsed on top of him. Clint couldn’t stop the scoff he gave.

 

“You nearly got crushed under a damn skyscraper, man, I don’t--”

 

“The dragons were all taken down cleanly with little collateral damage except for the building,” Coulson interrupted him smoothly, face blank. “Sitreps?”

 

Clint clamped his jaw shut and fairly glowered for the rest of the meeting, giving a terse report before stalking off to the nearest vent, sliding inside and losing himself in the maze of the Tower. They were even more immaculate now, since apparently when you were pregnant even dust was more dangerous, or some shit.

 

“Are you well, sir?” And JARVIS now kept active monitoring in the vent system.

 

“‘M fine,” the archer grumbled, perched in one of his favorite spots near Tony’s workshop. The music centered him in a way he never would have guessed. “Just pissed at myself. Should’ve been more prepared.”

 

“I believe you did your utmost, Agent. And may I remind you that it is your scheduled snack time? Perhaps some food would help ease your mind.”

 

Man, everything was scheduled for him now. It would drive him nuts, but unfolding himself and feeling the slight hitch where his belly was already getting in the way made him ignore his annoyance and suck it up. For the kid, it was all for the kid.

 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, JARVIS.”

 

“You are quite welcome, Agent Barton.”

\-----

It was raining fire.

 

Not like a volcano had erupted, or there had been an airplane explosion, with rubble streaking down. No, literal fire, as if the clouds were weeping flames.

 

Clint stood in the middle of Times Square, watching as the giant screens crumbled down, holes searing in them and the windows around him as screams erupted everywhere, people running and screaming as they were burned alive.

 

His team was no different, even Thor and Steve taking hits as they scattered among the crowd, trying to get people to safety. Tony’s suit lent him no protection, and Clint bit back a scream as he disintegrated into ashes before his eyes.

 

Burned husks were what remained of Natasha and Phil, and even Hulk was wailing in pain.

  
“All your fault, Clint,” dream!Steve intoned monotonously, blood-streaked face melting in front of him--  
  
He shot up in bed, choking on a scream. His throat seared like he’d really swallowed mouthfuls of the fire rain, and his brain unhelpfully supplied him with the notes of Adele’s stupid tune.

 

“Your respiration and heart rate are far too high, Agent Barton. Shall I call Dr. Banner for assistance?”

  
For now, until they had a real doctor on hand that had gone through all of the paperwork Pepper was drawing up for him, Bruce was on call, even at his insistence that he wasn’t “that kind of doctor.” Clint shook his head furiously and palmed at the nightstand, finding the bottle of water he’d placed there and taking a few huge gulps.  
  
He’d be okay. He had to be; if not for him, for the kid.  
  
“JARVIS? Can you play some white noise for me?”  
  
“Of course, Agent Barton.”  
  
He closed his eyes and firmly concentrated on going back to sleep. If he was going to take care of himself, he was going to do it right. Before he knew it, he was swept back into dreamland--the good kind, this time.

  
**TBC**   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time--confrontation with Loki himself!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint confronts Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, my god am I sorry this took so long. This year has been no easier than the last, and I fully intend to make speedier updates now that I've actually gotten myself somewhat organized. All of your reviews were appreciated, and it was actually the last one that finally lit the fire under my butt to get going, so thank you! It's another shorter length chapter, but I swear they'll be longer from now on. Just glad I finished this one.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes, it's been sitting around so long.

It was less than a week later when Clint had enough. The nightmares were getting worse and worse, and even if his own wellbeing wasn’t a factor, there was the baby to think about (according to JARVIS, the first trimester was more important; Clint had pointed out that he was a guy and maybe it was different, but the AI had insisted).

He needed to get some closure for himself. The last time he’d seen Loki, the god had been freshly beaten up by Hulk, and while that was satisfying, Clint himself hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since then, let out all of the ire and pain and righteous anger pent up inside of him.

If he was gonna be able to sleep at night with that business unfinished, he had to meet him face to face. With this in mind, he managed to travel up to the Helicarrier, where they’d reinforced the Hulk cage. According to Nat’s sources, Fury was on board that day, and he needed his permission to see the god unless he asked JARVIS, who would tell Tony--who would tell Coulson.

Needless to say, he had to do this himself, even if that meant bearing the still suspicious and now disgusted or confused looks from the other agents onboard. Hill took one look at his face and hesitated before letting him into see the director.

Clint wasted no time getting down to business.

“I want to see him. I want to see—see Loki.”  
  
The Director didn’t seem to think this was a good idea, that much was clear. His eyepatch crinkled up in that way that meant he was worried, and if he was letting the archer see such an obvious tell then it probably was a really bad idea (or he was manipulating him again, but either way, Clint was doing this and no one was gonna stop him).  
  
But Clint had to see him. After what he’d done to him, done to Phil, made him do, not to mention to fucking downtown New York City? It wouldn’t be right not to.  
  
“I don’t care what your self-inflated sense of honor and guilt is telling you right now, Agent, but you are not going to meet with Loki. He’s on lockdown until we can convince the World Security Council and Asgard that we can hold him. I don’t want you getting pissed off and giving him some leverage to escape.”

But Clint didn’t give up. Suffice to say, after reminding him about hiding Phil from him and the guilt he felt and the ire of all of the Avengers still directed towards him, he gave in, albeit very reluctantly.

The next day Clint was striding into the containment cell, the only barrier between him and Loki the uber hard glass that made up the outer wall. The god extracted himself from the bed where he’d been sitting with a large, thick book, paging through it idly.  
  
“My precious Hawk...you fare well. Our offspring makes you glow, did you know that?”  
  
“Shut up,” Clint retorted almost casually. He couldn’t let himself get riled up by this monster. Not with this life inside of him now, especially. He could be reckless with himself, for sure; but this child inside of him hadn’t done anything wrong, and he couldn’t take it out on them. “So you know, then.”  
  
“Of course I know. I knew the moment my seed took hold inside of your belly,” the god practically purred, and Clint barely resisted the urge to shiver in disgust. Even hearing his voice felt like oil and dirt being dragged over his skin, filth seeping into his pores only to be sweated out later. Unfortunately, he had to stand it so he could say what he had to say and get some closure before all of this baby business happened. Not just for himself, but for Phil. They both deserved that much.

  
“And you just decided to keep that information to yourself, huh?” he snapped. “What, were you gonna keep me around as some creepy incubator or something?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “consort”, not with the implications it brought, and the nightmares he’d had about that very situation.

Unfortunately for him, the god seemed to have caught onto his line of thinking, or noticed the lack of this accusation, because he smirked wider.

“Oh, I would have told you...not that there was any need, with our link, and when you were under my thrall you would have accepted anything I said, did anything for me… Spread your legs for me over and over, even the entire army that you recruited, one after another…”  
  
“Cut the crap, asshat. I’ve heard all that shit before, you know that it doesn’t work on me.” Years of being captured and tortured on missions from men who’d leered at his arms and human traffickers and slavers in the Middle East, he’d heard the worst of what humanity had to offer, and Loki’s words were hardly any different. Of course, none of those humans had had him for nearly as long as Loki, or gotten into his head the same way, but it didn’t matter in the end. He could ignore his taunts about his own promiscuity, his weakness.

But Loki was trying another tactic, and he stiffened as soon as he heard the first words leave his lips.

“How do you know that I did not implant the child to keep control over you? It could be leeching away your free will as we speak…”

Clint didn’t realize he had his hand clamped over his belly protectively until he raised his free hand, curling it into a protective fist; his expression was pinched and blazingly furious.

“Screw that, you dick! This baby is more innocent than anything that comes from you has any right to be! Thor made sure we did all the right tests and shit to make sure, so don’t even try to play any mind games with me.”

He wasn’t Nat, he didn’t know how to turn the man’s words against him on his own. But he knew for certain that his baby--his, not his and Loki’s--was innocent and deserved to grow up without the god’s influence. Now, especially, with all of Stark’s resources in hand, he was confident he could do this without anything from the trickster god. Said god was unrelenting and not even bothering to be subtle anymore, simply digging at him to get a reaction, so fed up was he at being contained in this prison after having failed his mission.

“The second time we were together...you remember it well, don’t you, my Hawk? How you writhed in pleasure beneath me, screamed out my name and begged for more, which I glad gave yo—”  
  
“That’s enough.”  
  
Both Clint and Loki froze at the sound of another voice in the room. The Asgardian, for his part, looked to be  a mixture of shocked and angered.  
  
“You! I killed you, drove my spear through your back and felt you depart to Valhalla, how—”  
  
“Rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated,” Phil said calmly, walking further into the room with only the slightest hint of a limp still in his stride to betray that he had ever been stabbed at all. The reconstruction SHIELD had done on him was amazing, Clint had to admit to himself again. But he shoved that thought to the side in favor of indignant anger of his own.  
  
“Dammit Coulson, I had this one on my own, I was promised!”  
  
“Not with Loki. Fury accepted my reasoning and agreed that it’s not a good idea for you to be alone with him.”  
  
“Not a good—”  
  
He growled and turned to glare one last time at the smirking god inside the cage; he looked only slightly shaken now by Coulson’s reappearance, having recovered quickly. “We’re not finished here,” he hissed.  
  
“It appears that we are,” Loki said smoothly, and turned his back on him, returning to his book like nothing had happened. And that was that, apparently. Clint was ushered out of the room, and once they were out, he spun to glare at his (Former? He wasn’t sure anymore) handler.  
  
“What the fuck was that? You know what that looked like, right? You swooping in to save the damsel in distress, like I can’t take care of myself. The last thing I need is that asshole to see me any more vulnerable than I already am!”  
  
“I merely intervened in an unstable situation.”  
  
“No, screw that! You’re not going to do that again! The next time—”  
  
“Barton, it’s not in your best interests that you speak to him again.”  
  
“Fuck that! If you had my best interests in mind you sure as hell wouldn’t have let me think you were dead for a whole three months!”  
  
The barest of flinches was noticeable from the normally unflappable man.  
  
“Clint…” Even the use of his first name wasn’t enough to appease the irate archer.  
  
“No, fuck--fuck you! We are so done, Coulson. I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, anyway. I’ll work with you as the SHIELD liaison for the Avengers because I’m a fucking professional, but that is it. We’re over.”  
  
It was the final straw. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. After New York and this baby and facing his attacker again, the weight gain… He was done, he was so done. He drank in the sight of Phil one last time and turned on his heels, walking away. His chest clenched when he didn’t hear Phil move to follow him; ninja though he was, he’d hear something with how it echoed in here.  
  
He didn’t look back.

**  
TBC**


End file.
